


Adagio

by fappy



Category: Black Books
Genre: M/M, Not DSM approved psychological advice, Old Married Couple, Slow Burn, Well slow burn-ish, awkward idiots, except Manny has no idea, unintentional infidelity (kissing only)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fappy/pseuds/fappy
Summary: Manny spends a lot of time trying to read awful pop psychology books and being yelled at. Bernard deals with his feelings in a completely mature and reasonable way. Fran mostly just laughs at them.





	1. Light Reading

There was a new display.

Manny had spent several hours struggling with the complicated set of interlocking plastic sheets that made up the temporary shelving, while Bernard threw crumpled up post-its at him from behind the desk and mocked Manny, the author, and the entire publishing sector at large. The glossy new covers stood out against dull tomes that Manny tried to keep from accumulating too much dust, despite grime being Bernard's preferred state of affairs.

It was the latest pop science release in a long line from top TV psychologist, Dr Gudrun Blanche. Insipid self-help trash, according to Bernard, written to help idiot housewives rationalise their miserable husband's terrible personality. Manny spent some time looking into the calm face and understanding eyes of Dr Blanche as she watched them from the shiny dustcovers, and hid a copy behind the toilet roll holder, where Bernard would never look because he never replaced the toilet paper.

Bernard was bitter, and mean. Manny knew that. Hell, everyone in a ten-mile radius of Black Books knew that, and anyone who didn't soon learned. Even copious amounts of alcohol rarely dulled his acerbic tongue, though it did generally make the cruel remarks less intelligible and much less grammatically correct. Hurtful intent was there though, in every slurred declaration and flailing hand-wave. He was like an angry turtle, Manny thought, or an armadillo, if turtles and armadillos had enormous poisonous spikes and a fondness for cheap reds. He wore his sourness like armour, keeping everyone at arm’s length from his safe bubble of cigarette smoke and book de jour.

Resplendent the protective shell of his customary black suit- which at this point could probably be declared a new lifeform given the accumulation of sweat, skin cells and bacteria- Bernard seemed capable of pleasantry in only two situations. One, for dramatic effect, when he was building up to a particularly scathing dismissal; and two, when Santino from the off-licence gave them an even better deal on whatever horrible swill Bernard fished out of the discount bin.

Manny suspected Santino only did it because no one else bought it, but it was still an incredibly bizarre experience, watching Bernard as he smiled and fawned and complimented a stone-faced man in his mid-fifties with wild black hair springing from every possible pore and three gold teeth. Bernard's usual sour expression had returned the moment he'd exited the establishment, hunched in his favourite dark coat, enormous sunglasses firmly perched on his nose.

Manny had been in a daze the entire walk back, arms full of bottles Bernard had procured with crumpled tenners and possibly foreign change, not that Bernard seemed to notice his silence. Manny often wondered if Bernard ever noticed the things Manny did, except when it was to complain, usually in response to Manny's attempts to meet Bernard's vague, petty demands. He couldn't get the image of Bernard's genuine little smile out of his mind though, burned behind his retinas.

*

Bernard _could_ be nice, if he wanted. He did compliment people on occasion, though they were usually backhanded in some way, or casually inserted midsentence as he complained about something else. Manny suspected, on careful consultation with Fran- who'd known Bernard for years and could be relied upon to keep her mouth shut about his Black-related speculations- that Bernard hadn't always been a bitter pessimist.

Dr Blanche’s _Why Is He Like That? Understanding Difficult Men_ informed him that sarcasm and reactionary behaviour could be a defence mechanism- methods people used to cope with painful or frightening situations.

Manny considered Bernard in the quiet afternoon sunshine, buried in a book behind the desk with an unlit cigarette clenched primly in his forefingers. Bernard’s suit was particularly crumpled today, having slept on the couch after Fran left in the small hours to crawl back to her apartment. Manny had needed to be up early to let the deliverymen in with Dr Blanche's books, and sweep up any glass before someone trod on a shard and they had more solicitors sending them nasty letters.

Bernard had a small crease in his brows that told Manny that the literature wasn't particularly thrilling to the Irishman's discerning palette, and his rude mouth was pressed in a hard line. Given that he was reading a re-released _Peter Rabbit and Friends_ compilation, Manny doubted it would hold his attention for long. He didn't appear to be frightened or in any particular pain though, except the headache that might come from reading a bad revision.

"It doesn't even have pictures!" Bernard snarled moments later, flinging the book across the shop, where its spine cracked loudly against the edge of a bookcase, dislodging several dead spiders and making the only customer in the store flinch violently. The balding gentleman in question scurried out the door as Bernard continued his tirade.

"How can I be expected to enjoy the descriptive imagery if I can't even see Jemima’s blue bonnet?" Bernard appeared to ask Manny, shouting in his general direction. Manny studiously pretended to read the magazine propped in front of him, over the top of which he had actually just been staring at Bernard for an indeterminate length of time.

Manny made a noncommittal noise in response and didn't look up. A mistake, perhaps.

"And what titillating tales does the newest _OK! Magazine_ have to offer, that's so interesting to our dear Manny?" Bernard's tone was syrupy and nasal. He seemed to hate even the implication of being ignored, despite ignoring everyone around him constantly. Alone in the store with Manny and no one else to posture for, his moods were always more mercurial and strange, especially after they closed.

"Um," Manny had picked it up for the sole reason that it was handy and he'd wanted to stare at Bernard some. On the page, a smiling woman with a toddler on one hip and a bowl in her other hand looked through Manny with her blank, glossy eyes. "Yoghurt, new yoghurt, thing-"

"-Yoghurt!" Bernard cried, leaping from the chair in his usual dramatic fashion, newly empty hands waving about his head. "Yoghurt!" His rich accent wrapped around the word and popped the ‘t’ with almost tangible disgust. "What stimulating reading! What phenomenal journalism!" He whipped the back room curtains open with enough force to rip one of the curtain rings, and disappeared into the kitchen, muttering vitriol.

Manny tossed the magazine back on the pile and sighed. Bernard had been even more nasty than usual lately, but Manny was beginning to doubt Dr Blanche could puzzle out the mysteries of his employer-slash-friend any better than he could.

"Manny!" Bernard shouted from the kitchen. There was a crash, and the sound of glass breaking. "Manny, get in here now!"

 *

Usually formed as effective ways of dealing with stressful situations, negative modes of relating to the world could remain for many years after they were no longer the best methods for people to use, Dr Blanche discussed on page forty-five of her book. This was as far as Manny got before Bernard threw something at the toilet door, and Manny hid the book again so he could answer the shop phone.

It was new, with a short cord leading to the phone-pad situated directly in front of a hungover and particularly ornery Bernard, so Manny had to lean over very awkwardly and spend the entire conversation staring at the back of Bernard’s head. Someone (Fran, most likely) had ashed their cigarette in Bernard's hair at some point, and the sliver of Bernard's neck that was visible between hairline and collar was smeared grey.

"Hello! Yes, no, Mrs. K, no-", Mrs. K cut Manny off particularly loudly, and he tried to pay attention to her rambling as Bernard mumbled to himself and scratched his ear, dropping his lit cigarette onto Manny's foot through his open toed sandal.

"Ah! Ah! Bernard! No, Mrs. K, not you-" Manny tried to stamp the cigarette out with his other foot, but only succeeded in wedging the burning tip in between two of his toes. "Ah! Bernard! Bernard!"

"What! What! What!" Bernard spun in the chair, one hand over his closed eyes. The phone cord tangled in his hair and he yanked it out of Manny's hand with a huff, blindly slamming it down in its cradle behind him. The wheel of the desk chair rolled over Manny's foot, crushing the cigarette, as well as his foot.

Manny yelped and overbalanced, catching himself awkwardly on one arm of the chair and the edge of the desk. There was a beat of silence before Bernard squinted his bloodshot eyes open to peer up at Manny.

They were very close.

The agony in Manny's crushed foot was stable for the moment, so long as neither of them moved and he didn't breathe too hard. He could see three faint freckles on Bernard's nose, and that he needed some lip balm.

"What do you think you're doing, yelling in my ear?" Bernard's voice was very quiet, which was nice. Manny hated when Bernard shouted in his face. His breath stank like an ashtray, and if he'd been drinking there was always spittle.

"You have ash on your neck." Manny told him, just as quiet, though that wasn't what he meant to say at all. Bernard's expression shifted into a frown, suspicious, and he rubbed his neck to confirm. His fingers came away grey and Manny let out a little moan of agony as the chair shifted slightly. Bernard's frown deepened, but he stayed very still, peering up at Manny.

"What're you doing?" Bernard asked again, slightly louder and in a strange tone. "What's that sound for?"

Manny sucked in a short pained breath, staring very intently at Bernard's chapped lips because he didn't want to look at his foot and see some kind of mangled mess. Or worse, a burn mark on his brand new sandals.

"You're hurting me," he said.

For a moment, Bernard seemed flabbergasted, before his face twisted into a scowl. "What're you-" He leaned back, hard enough to roll the chair off Manny's foot, and Manny howled in pain, clutching his newly freed foot while he hopped up and down on the other.

"My foot!" Manny cried, "You've broken my foot!"

Bernard watched him for second in silence, then stood up with a loud ‘tsk’ sound. He threw his arms up at Manny, his face starting to get red. "Ridiculous, you're absolutely-"

 "Excuse me!"

A customer.

"What!" Bernard rounded on them with a shout. "What do you want!" Bernard's questions often didn't sound like questions, because they weren't. "Can't you see I'm busy!"

The customer, an elderly chap with a large handlebar moustache, had a stack of books and a red face to match Bernard's. They started shouting at the same time.

Manny, meanwhile, hopped his way to the kitchen chair to inspect the damage. Now his foot wasn't in the immediate crush zone, it wasn't actually that painful. It probably wasn't broken, just bruised. Manny plucked the squashed cigarette from between his toes, frowning at the red burn mark on his skin. At least his sandals seemed to have escaped the damage.

"Right!" Bernard snapped as he ripped back the curtains and stood in the doorway with a glare. The customer had finally left, evidently. "What's your problem then!"

Manny sighed, stretching his foot out to see if he could wiggle his toes. He could, even if it was a bit painful, though he wasn't sure exactly what that meant. Wiggling your toes was very important in the movies, so it was probably meant he'd be alright with an ice-pack.

"My problem is you crushed my foot with your stupid roll-y chair." Bernard used every excuse to wheel this way and that, ever since they'd bought it, so it was really a miracle he didn't crush Manny's toes more often. "And you hung up on Mrs. K! You know what she's like, now she'll be in 'ere, pinching me with her old lady fingers- they hurt, you know-!"

"-Never mind that!" Bernard yelled over him, waving his arms about again. He was very lively all of a sudden, for someone who’d probably slept a grand total of four hours and had an entire bar's worth of a hangover. "What were you doing, on the phone over my head! Don't you know anything about personal space! Leaning all over me with your stupid beard-!"

"-Excuse me!" Manny interrupted, standing up gingerly and putting his hands on his hips. "You're the one who won't answer the phone! When it's sitting right there in front of you! I can't even use the bathroom in peace!"

Bernard huffed, but he obviously didn't have much in the way of a snappy comeback, because he whirled around back into the bookstore with a stamp, and shouted back at Manny. "I'm going out, you creep! Watch the shop!"

Manny sighed again, hobbling back to the desk and picking up the copy of Dr Blanche's book that Bernard had been using as a paperweight-slash-coaster. She looked up at Manny from the centre of the ring shaped wine stain and Manny gave her a smile. "He won't be back for ages; we can catch up!"

The middle aged woman in the history section gave him a funny look, but Manny just put his sore foot up on the desk and flicked through the pages.

*

 As it so happens, Manny did know something about personal space. He thought it was very important, usually, and tried not to intrude too much on other people's, especially women's. He wasn't a particularly large man, but women did sometimes find him a little frightening, despite his best intentions.

Fran said he was just a little intense, sometimes. Bernard said he looked like a serial killer in a cheap wig, but Fran had rolled her eyes in a way that meant Bernard was probably trying to make some horrible little joke, so Manny didn't take that to heart. Besides, Bernard could hardly claim to be the most charming person around.

Dr Blanche recommended observation as an important tool in understanding someone's behaviour, especially their behaviour around other people. Comparing how different people were treated could reveal hints of why people acted in certain ways, if asking them wasn't an option. Manny couldn't imagine asking Bernard things like "Why do you treat people like an absolute bastard sometimes?" and "Why does human emotion give you hives?" would end well.

So, he observed.

Or, he tried to. Bernard was incredibly boring to observe, on a usual day. Most days he just sat at the desk buried in a book, or buried in his hangover. Occasionally, he had to phone someone or run an errand he couldn't get Manny to do. Watching him read was only interesting for so long, given that he seemed to adopt a set expression that didn't deviate much regardless of what he was reading. Occasionally he'd demand tea, or look up at Manny and tell him to "get back to work", as if there was a multitude of tasks outside of pricing things and reorganising the romance section when people jumbled it all up again in search of a yet-unstained Mills and Boon. Manny suspected interactions outside work hours would be more enlightening.

Interestingly, or perhaps boring-ly, Bernard didn't really do much out of hours either, except drink with Manny and Fran. A drunk Bernard was far more expressive, but Manny was usually drunk too, and Fran was always drunk, so they all generally had a very jolly time except Manny would keep forgetting to Observe. Manny and Fran would get into very interesting discussions about something in a magazine, and Bernard would occasionally snipe at them from his languid sprawl behind the desk and eat all the crisps while they weren't paying attention.

Fran was an observant person, though. Or, at least, more observant than Bernard appeared to be, because she noticed Manny's attempts to Observe Bernard's behaviour almost immediately.

"Manny...?", she whispered to him one afternoon with a wine glass in hand, drawing out his name in that way that meant she was planning to ask something she thought would be sensitive. They were sitting in the shop, while Bernard was clattering around in the kitchen, muttering "hungry, hungry, hungry" in a little off-key singsong to himself.

"Yes, Fran?" Manny whispered back, and leaned closer, sensing the secrecy.

She glanced at kitchen curtains that hid Bernard from view and gave him one of her awkward little smiles, like she knew something Manny didn't. Or, she thought she did.

"You know you've been staring at Bernard an awful lot lately...?" She said in that same drawn out tone. It wasn't really much of a question so Manny just nodded.

"Yes, I'm trying to observe him in his, sort of, natural state."

Fran quirked an eyebrow, leaning back to take a sip of her drink. She glanced back at the kitchen. "What, like an alcoholic... baboon, or something?" she murmured, looking a little disbelieving.

"Well no, more... turtle-," Manny said, and Fran raised her other eyebrow, "-but anyway, it’s like, in that new book." He nodded in the direction of the display, where the last of the copies of _Why Is He Like That?_  lingered watchfully. "It says you should try to, you know, observe people, to work out why they do strange things, so-"

Fran cut Manny off with a snort. She nodded towards the kitchen, where Bernard's muttering had taken on the underwater quality that meant he was rummaging around in the fridge- not that there was much in there to rummage.

"You can watch him all day, Manny, and I can tell you right now, you're only going to _observe_ that Bernard's a bit of a freak," she chuckled, but Manny must have pulled a face, because she leaned in again with a plaintive look.

"Not in a _bad_ way, really! But his brain's just... wired to do strange things, that's all!" She sounded very confident, and lit a cigarette. She took a drag, and waved the lit tip in the direction of the kitchen. "I bet you another bottle, he comes out here with something absolutely revolting and eats it like its mum's pudding."

She flicked her cigarette ash into an empty crisp packet and nodded at Manny, supreme in her conviction. Manny frowned, but nodded back anyway. She was probably right. Dr Blanche seemed to be popular with the more boring, normal type people, so her techniques probably couldn't be applied to everyone.

"Aha!" Bernard sounded very pleased, echoing from the kitchen. "The final condiment!"

Fran's smile widened and she topped off her and Manny's glasses with the last of the wine.

"What're you making, Bernard?" she called out, taking another drag.

"What have I made, she asks!" Bernard brushed the curtain aside and held a chipped plate in the air like it was some kind of masterpiece. "Dinner is served!" He put the plate carefully on the desk and flung himself into the chair with his usual drama.

It was a... sandwich, of some sort. The crust had bits picked out of it that had probably been mouldy, but it appeared to be relatively normal and... sandwich-y. Manny glanced at Fran, but her Cheshire grin just got wider.

"Ooo," she said, in a fake-cheery type of voice. "That looks lovely Bernard, what's on it?"

Bernard didn't appear to notice her false tone, shoving one end of the sandwich in his mouth with a pleased look, and spoke through the mouthful.

"Egg, 'n pickle." Bernard swallowed thickly, and Manny raised his brows at Fran. Her grin didn't waver.

"Anything else?" She asked sweetly, sipping her wine.

"What?" Bernard drank half his wine, shaking his head a little and waving the half eaten sandwich. "Jam, of course." He drank the last of his glass, and frowned at the empty bottle on the desk. "Tuna, too-" he muttered distractedly, picking up the bottle and peering inside.

Manny cut him off with a sigh and stood up, while Fran cackled her little witch's laugh. Bernard glanced up at her and plonked the bottle down, suspicious of her giggles, and then looked at Manny.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, frowning while he stuffed the sandwich in his mouth again.

"More wine," Manny replied, pulling his coat off the back of the chair. Fran laughed louder, devolving into little snorts. Bernard glanced between them, frown deepening at their strange behaviour.

"Well... good!" Bernard exclaimed, but sounded a little unsure. He waved the last of his sandwich about, and added, "Get more tuna, too, we're out!"

Fran's laughter followed him out of the bookshop, accompanied by Bernard's bewildered "What?".

It occurred to Manny a while later as the Tesco lady was ringing up his purchases, that he hadn't bought tuna since he'd moved in. Fran had, however, brought over some tins of cat food months before, when they'd had a cat.

"Somethin' the matter, love?" The cashier looked a little concerned, and Manny realised he'd been frowning blankly into his wallet.

"Oh, sorry," he said, handing her a taped-together twenty. Fran was right, he decided. Bernard was a bit odd, but then again, they all were, he reasoned. He supposed it wasn't very nice of him to be investigating his friend like he was some kind of case to crack.

Manny decided that he read the rest of Dr Blanche's book, because it was enjoyable, and not because he was going to try to change Bernard.

 


	2. Teen Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manny gets a bit fed up with Bernard, and Fran almost ruins everything (though probably not really). Manny doesn't really understand subtext, but he knows its there.

Manny was at his wit's end.

Bernard could be difficult at the best of times, but he'd become even more surly and biting of late, and Manny had almost had it with him and his stupid bookstore. Throwing things, complaining, and just generally being impossible- Manny was sick of it. Snarking and shouting back didn't even have any effect anymore. Bernard seemed to use any excuse to get up in his face, yelling and poking with his sharp pointy fingers.

Fran wasn't much help either. Since Manny had mentioned Dr Blanche, she'd picked up a copy to read herself, and finished it in a few days, while Manny was still trapped on page sixty-two: _Trying to Cope_. She spent most of her time watching them argue with a very odd look on her face. Watching Bernard, especially.

"He just can't seem to ignore you lately, can he Manny?" she asked him one afternoon, when she popped in while Bernard was out being yelled at by the staff at the bank. She said it like it was some kind of good thing, that Bernard snarled at him constantly.

"I wish he would," Manny snapped, scrubbing his coffee cup. He was very protective of it, given that all the other cups were perpetually filthy and Bernard was an unrepentant thief. "Go back to reading some stupid book for once."

Fran made a _hmmmm_ sound, flicking to the next page of the newspaper. "I think you should ask him, though," she said casually, as if there was some great question that Manny had missed among his variously worded shouts of "What the hell is wrong with you, Bernard!"

"Ask him what!" Manny cried, flinging his soapy hands up, then he froze. Oh no. He was becoming Bernard, waving his hands about and making questions into knives. He turned around and gave Fran an apologetic look. "Sorry, Fran. He's just so-" Manny struggled to find the words, "-So! Argh!"

He sat down beside her with a sigh.

"Mmmmm." She hummed sagely in agreement, patting Manny on the shoulder. "He's not usually so snappy though. Don't you want to know what's bothering him?" She said it just as casually as before. Too casually. Manny squinted at her.

"Has he said something, Fran?" Manny felt a little betrayed. Fran was Bernard's friend first, but he still felt like they had the kind of camaraderie where she'd tell him those kinds of things. "I just want to fix things! Go back to the way they were! Not so- nasty all the time!" Manny was desperate for an answer, and tried his most assuring tone. "I won't tell him you said anything!" He wouldn't. They'd never hear the end of it from Bernard, even if Manny was that kind of person.

Fran looked conflicted, but she shook her head. "No, he hasn't said anything-" She paused, looking considering at Manny, adding cryptically, "He never does." She looked away, fiddling with the newspaper corner like she had something more to say.

"Fran?" Manny felt very confused. Was Bernard normally like this? Was it something Manny had done?

Fran looked him in the eye for a moment, biting her lip. Whatever she saw must have convinced her, because she flung the paper down with a sigh, and said, "Bernard will kill me for this, but-"

"Will he now!" Bernard flounced through the kitchen curtain, his coat swinging and his hands full of paperwork. Manny jumped, startled, and Fran turned pink. She hadn't heard him come in either, apparently. He was usually so loud.

"Telling tales behind my back, _Enid_?" Bernard snapped, dumping the papers on the filthy kitchen table and clicking on the kettle. "What rubbish is she filling your empty head with today, then, Manny?"

Manny and Fran shared a look, and they both stood at the same time.

"Nice to see you Bernard, but I really should be going now," Fran said quickly, grabbing her bag and coat. She nodded at Manny, who nodded back, still confused.

"Oh, now she goes!" Bernard didn't acknowledge Fran's goodbye, or even turn around as she disappeared. Manny felt a little like he'd been abandoned, left to fend for himself against a bear or some other frightening beast.

Bernard snatched up Manny's clean cup, waving it about. "What about the grand reveal?” he shouted into the sink. “Come into the store! Bernard Black's darkest secrets, betrayed over tea with a half-wit!"

"Hey now-" Manny was hurt, mostly on Fran's behalf. She would never betray Bernard, not intentionally. Or at least… not maliciously. "That's not very nice! Fran wouldn't do that!"

Bernard ignored him, viciously spooning instant coffee into Manny's cup, so he grabbed Bernard on the elbow to get his attention.

"-Oi, Bernard-!"

"What!" Bernard wrenched his arm out of Manny's grip, whirling around and grabbing him by the shirt collar.

"What! What did she tell you!" He snarled in Manny's face. The height difference was small enough that they were almost nose to nose. Bernard hadn't shaved, but his eyes were much clearer than usual because he'd passed out drunk very early in the afternoon the day before. A solid night's rest seemed to do nothing for his temper, though.

"That's my cup!" Manny choked out, which wasn't what he'd intended to say. Being so close to Bernard's angry face seem to jumble up all his thoughts. He grabbed the coffee cup off the counter with one hand, and Bernard by the wrist with the other, trying to pull his hand away from Manny's collar.

Bernard responded by grabbing his collar with his other hand, seemingly by reflex, leaving Manny holding Bernard’s left wrist and the coffee cup.

"What!" Bernard looked as mad as Manny had ever seen him. "What are you talking about!"

"My cup!" Manny said stupidly, somewhat in shock. "You never clean yours!"

Bernard stared at him for a moment, then let out a loud, frustrated noise and used his grip on Manny's shirt to push him back, hard. Manny stumbled and dropped the coffee cup back on the counter with a clatter, but he still had a tight grip on Bernard's other arm, wrapped around the man's wrist. Bernard stumbled too, grabbing Manny by the shirt again with his right hand, locking his elbow.

They regained their footing, now caught in an awkward standstill at arm’s length. Bernard stared at Manny with an peculiar look on his face, and Manny stared back.

The moment stretched longer. Bernard shifted his grip on Manny's buttons slightly, but didn't say anything. Manny felt strange, but refused to be the one to break their gridlock. He felt like something else was going on, besides their argument, but also like if he dropped his grip first that he'd lose somehow.

"Let go, Manny," Bernard said loudly, after what felt like a century. He didn't look mad any more, but he still had an odd turn-down of his mouth. Bernard didn't say anything else, so after a beat Manny replied.

"No," he said, suddenly remembering that he had two hands, and used his free one to grab Bernard's other arm. Bernard's face twisted the moment Manny touched his bare wrist, spooking Manny out of pulling it away from his collar like he'd intended to. They stood there for a long moment, Manny in confusion as Bernard's face seemed to be getting whiter and whiter.

"Um," Manny mumbled, and he loosened his grip on Bernard slightly, but didn't let go. Bernard silently dropped his right wrist, leaving it hanging in Manny's grip along with his left. He said nothing.

"Bernard," Manny said, confused and a little uncomfortable. It felt like he was missing something very important, because he'd never seen Bernard so pale.

"Manny," Bernard replied, finally dropping his gaze for a moment, and when he looked back up at Manny he didn't meet Manny’s eye. He just stood quietly with his wrists in Manny's grip.

The kettle clicked off behind them.

"What did she tell you, Manny." Bernard sounded.... strange. Resigned. Manny didn't know what to do with a tone like that from Bernard. He wasn't the hugging type. Manny shook Bernard's wrists a little. His thin skin was warm, and Manny could feel the faint raised line of an old scar on Bernard’s left arm.

“She didn’t say anything, Bernard.” Manny bobbed his head a little trying to meet Bernard’s eyes. Bernard wasn’t pulling that school-boy pouting routine that he sometimes did, when he didn’t get his way. This was serious, and it made Manny’s stomach churn, because he didn’t know what to do. It felt awful.

“I’d just been asking if- If I’d done something wrong,” Manny said, as truthfully as he could. “You don’t seem to want me around anymore.”

Bernard looked at him finally, properly, so Manny tried to say with his face that, honestly, he and Fran hadn’t been gossiping about whatever terrible thing Bernard was imagining. If Bernard didn’t want to tell him anything about himself, then that was fine. It was just- Manny didn’t want to stop working with Bernard, or living in his spare room.

“I like being here, Bernard,” Manny said, because Bernard was still uncharacteristically silent. “I just don’t like fighting with you all the time, that’s all.”

Bernard scanned Manny’s face for a long moment, pale and solemn, before he looked away.

“Right,” Bernard said softly, and clenched his fists. Manny could feel the tendons shift and pull.

“Right,” Bernard said again, louder, and pulled away. Manny let him go, and said nothing as Bernard climbed the stairs to their rooms and disappeared.

Manny drew a deep breath, and looked around the kitchen for a moment. His coffee cup sat on the bench, half full of instant granules, and he wondered if Bernard would even drink it if he finished making it. Probably not.

He left the steaming cup outside Bernard’s door with a little knock, and when he came back to check after closing time, it was gone.

*

Things were a little stilted for a while.

Bernard went from never shutting up about what Manny was doing, to not appearing particularly interested at all. It wasn’t the same kind of disinterest as it used to be though, when Bernard was buried in a book and completely absent from reality, not to be disturbed. It was like it had been the first few days after Manny came back to work, following his stint with the weird photographer. Like they were very carefully being themselves, or the selves that used to exist.

Just like then, Manny felt like his skin didn’t fit right, but he didn’t know how to change it. It just took time to smooth new grooves in their interactions, or something. Manny had given up on reading Dr Blanche's book, having sold his copy to a particularly desperate looking middle-aged woman who kept prattling on about her husband.

Bernard had given him an instant smirk after she’d left, and looked like he was about to say something smarmy, but then he faltered and seemed to remember himself. He went back to his book, silent, and Manny felt like being the one to shout and throw up his arms wildly, like Bernard used to.

“Tea?” Manny asked carefully instead, desperate for something he wasn’t sure he could name. A reaction, or maybe just attention?

“No, thank you.” Bernard didn’t look up, and used that same strange tone that said he was being careful, too. That he didn’t want to fight.

Manny resisted the urge to sigh, because that wasn’t going to help. Besides, he didn’t want to fight either. He’d gotten what he wanted, he supposed. It just wasn’t the casual back-and-forth that used to flow so naturally. Maybe it was better, this polite new interaction they had. The old way ended up degenerating into bickering, and Manny still didn’t know what it was that had pushed them from the snarky banter that still had boundaries, into the horrible arguments and verbal attacks.

It was better when Fran was there, and somehow worse. Bernard seemed to relax more, which made Manny relax as well, but it was obvious to everyone that something wasn’t right. Fran hadn’t questioned it. She probably assumed- correctly- that their fighting had come to a head, and she went along with their post-fight strangeness as well as anyone could. Also, she brought wine, which generally lifted all of their spirits.

Fran was a sort of barrier, too. She usually sat between them in the store anyway, because Manny was usually up and about doing something, while Bernard sat behind the desk. Now it seemed to be carefully orchestrated, where Bernard never seemed to be next to Manny, even when they went out to the pub.

Once Manny noticed, he felt terrible. Bernard had never been the most physical person, but Manny hated to think he’d made him uncomfortable somehow. It was another one of those things that he couldn’t really bring up, though, because it wasn’t some concrete act. It was casual, and could have just been a coincidence. Manny thought about forcing Bernard’s hand, and convincing Fran to swap with him, but he also didn’t want to cause more weirdness between them.

If Bernard didn’t want to sit next to him, that was fine. It wasn’t like they’d ever been all over each other. It was all the other tip-toeing that was putting Manny on edge. Bernard didn’t get him to do that much anymore, except the things he was truly awful at, like the accounts, or didn’t particularly think needed doing, like the dusting. It was odd, and though it was nice to not have to do everything around the place, it also made Manny feel a bit useless. He had far more time on his hands, when Bernard did things like ordering and stock take.

Manny and Fran walked in one day after doing some shopping to find Bernard stacking the new boxes of books. Manny thought it was strange, but assumed Bernard surely must have been the one to stack them, before Manny worked for him.

Fran nearly dropped her bags, though.  
  
“What are you doing, Bernard?” she exclaimed, her expression gobsmacked, like she’d caught him with his pants down doing the Macarena. Actually, given Bernard’s history of drunken capers, that probably wouldn’t have surprised her as much.

Bernard’s head snapped up from where he’d been studiously inspecting the spines of the new order. He looked guilty, like he’d been caught red-handed at some nefarious act.

“Nothing!” Bernard said quickly, unconvincingly. He threw down the book he was holding, probably going for casual, but it skidded off the table and hit the floor on the other side with a resounding _thunk_.

“Not nothing!” Fran sounded gleeful now, like Bernard had given her blackmail material for decades. “You’re stacking books!” She rounded the table, and Bernard stumbled back, around the other side. She grinned over the table between them, while Bernard looked at her warily. She took a step to her left, and Bernard took a step to his left, so they were still the same distance. Manny looked back and forth between them from the doorway, like it was a tennis game.

“Bernard!” Fran cried, after several laps of the table. She reached across to grab Bernard’s jacket, and Bernard fended her off with a hardback copy of _Treasure Island_.

“What!” Bernard shouted defensively, “Can’t a man stack books in his own bookshop, without some harpy questioning him?” He slapped _Treasure Island_ down on the table to punctuate his point.

Fran put her hands on her hips with an incredulous look on her face. “You’ve never stacked the books in your life!” she said, which Manny thought was a bit odd. Bernard did own a bookstore. “Even when you moved in, you got what’s-his-name, your friend, to do it for you!”

“Bollocks!” Bernard responded, adamant. “Of course I’ve- stacked the books before! They have to get on the shelves somehow!” The last part sounded a little uncertain, like Bernard wasn’t entirely sure of the mechanics of books going on shelves.

Fran laughed, short and fake and high. “You’d make me do it, remember, every time I came over for a drink! Or you’d put them right in the doorway, so the customers would do it for you half the time, trying to find something new!” She waved at Manny, who was still in the doorway with the shopping bags, feeling bewildered. “And then it was Manny’s job, even when he wasn’t here! You just leave them in boxes around for everyone to trip over!”

Fran paused, and looked at Manny, then at Bernard. Her gleeful expression dropped, and then she looked as uncertain as Bernard.

“You’re not- sick, are you Bernard?” She leaned over the table again, trying to put her hand on Bernard’s forehead.

“What?” Bernard asked, flapping her hand away, agitated. “Of course I’m not sick! What are you on about, woman?” He didn’t wait for a reply, and stormed into the kitchen before Fran or Manny could say anything.

Fran gave Manny a look, and picked up her shopping bags. Manny shrugged in response, and they both followed Bernard into the kitchen. Bernard was at the sink, shifting things around. Probably trying to find a cup, but there weren’t any. Manny’s coffee cup still hadn’t resurfaced, and he hadn’t been game to ask after its whereabouts. The other coffee cups had variously been broken with use or used as projectiles.

Fran put her bags on one of the chairs, while Manny cleared a corner of the table and started putting things away. Fran stood awkwardly for a moment, leaning on the back of the chair.

“Don’t you have a- job interview, or a sad man to torture?” Bernard’s tone didn’t have much bite. He was fiddling with a teaspoon, and not looking at either of them.

“But Bernard,” Fran said gently, “You’re my favourite sad man to torture!” Manny put the biscuits away with a small chuckle. Fran looked like she was about to say more when the shop door opened, and Bernard sprang past them both without a word, escaping into the bookstore.

Fran looked at Manny, who shrugged. “He’s never been so eager to serve a customer!” she said, sitting in the spare chair.

“Tea, Fran?” Manny asked, “It’ll be in a wine glass though, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you, Manny,” Fran replied, “What happened?”

“Bernard broke all the normal cups trying to hit that cat from upstairs”, Manny explained, “They’re still trying to charge us, you know-”

“Oh no, Manny,” she interrupted, “I meant with you and Bernard! He’s been really weird lately!”

“Oh,” said Manny, “Um, well-”

“I thought you’d made up!” Fran continued over him, “Or at least worked out what was bothering him!” She gave Manny a significant look. “You have worked out what’s bothering him, haven’t you?”

“Oh,” said Manny, again, handing Fran her glass of tea, “Um, well-”

“I’m sorry- thank you, Manny- but you two are impossible!” Fran sipped her tea, standing up. “No wonder neither of you can keep a girlfriend- you deserve each other!”

Manny felt a little hurt. “I don’t know what you mean, Fran,” he said, sipping his own glass of tea. “I’ve kept girlfriends!” Fran gave him a look, so he continued hurriedly, “And Bernard! He was engaged, remember!”

“Oh, I remember,” Fran said, “I remember how she pretended to be dead to get out of it.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair Fran,” Manny said, quietly so Bernard wouldn’t hear, “He’s still probably really, you know, twisted up about it! It would mess with any man’s head!”

Fran laughed, sculling the rest of her tea. “Bernard’s head’s been messed up much longer than he’d known Emma, and frankly Manny, the only one he’s twisted up about right now is you!” She picked up her bags, and left Manny spluttering over his cup. “Bye, Bernard!” Manny heard Fran call cheerily as she left the shop.

“Bye- Fran-” came the faint, confused reply, before Bernard appeared in between the curtains, hands gripping the sides of the doorway. Manny looked at him blankly, and Bernard looked back, frowning. “What were you talking about, then?”

“Nothing, really,” Manny said, still a bit confused himself. “Cups, and then about how Fran thinks we deserve each other.”

Bernard was silent for a beat, before saying, “Oh, does she now?” in a questioning tone. He seemed to be waiting for a response, but Manny just sort of shrugged. He felt like he was doing that a lot lately.

“Yeah, she said we can’t keep girlfriends, and we deserve each other.”

Bernard was still frowning, and tapped his fingers on the door frame. “And what did you think?” He said after a moment, in the same questioning tone.

“About what?” Manny wasn’t trying to be obtuse, but Bernard and Fran were both acting so strange.

“About us-” Bernard seemed a little choked up, “-Deserving each other?”

“Oh,” Manny said, still pretty confused. “Well, I guess it’s true,” he chuckled a little, because it seemed like such an odd question. “I mean, it’s not like either of us have hot dates for the weekend!” He grinned at Bernard, who was still frowning.

There was a long silence.

“Right,” Bernard said finally. “No dates.” He still seemed to be waiting for something.

Manny waved his tea glass. “No, not anytime soon, anyway!” he said, bemused.

“No,” Bernard said slowly, frown shrinking. He stared at Manny for a moment longer, before he seemed to relax a fraction. “Okay,” he said, nodding at Manny. “Alright, then.” He paused, and then gestured at the sink behind Manny. “Your cup, it’s in the cupboard, under there, if you’re looking for it.”

Manny blinked, and smiled a little. “Oh, thank you, Bernard. I was looking for it, actually. Thought I’d lost it forever!” He chuckled, and drank his tea. Manny had the feeling this was another one of those conversations that wasn’t actually about what they appeared to be about. For the life of him he couldn’t muddle together what the hell was going on, but it didn’t seem to be a bad thing, because Bernard almost looked like he was smiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment if you enjoyed, or know where to find more fic! together we can help each other!!


	3. Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manny continues to be oblivious, until he's not. Bernard gets very upset, and Fran will probably need therapy. Danny and Angela, whoever they are, get left at a bar.

Things got both better, and more odd.

Bernard wasn’t avoiding him anymore, and they seemed to be back to the normal amount of sitting next to each other. They didn’t argue, so much as carefully bicker about safe topics. It wasn’t really the same though.

Manny felt like there was still something strange going on, that he couldn’t really pinpoint. Mostly, Bernard was too nice to him. Nothing drastic. He still complained about Manny’s beard and got him to do all the more awful jobs in the shop. Just, little things. Like asking him if he wanted tea, or topping up his wine glass. They stacked new books next to each other, once or twice, Bernard passing books up while Manny put them over to the front display. It was… pleasant. Manny liked this new, less angry Bernard.

Manny didn’t expect it to last, really, so he didn’t question it. Bernard seemed… happier. So Manny was happier too. Fran seemed rather pleased, too. She kept giving Manny little smiles, whenever Bernard seemed to do something less bastard-like than usual, and asking how they were whenever Bernard was distracted.

“Good,” Manny would reply, because it was true. He didn’t mention the strange feeling, because Fran was giving him that strange feeling too.

“Oh, I’d love to get you alone for a while,” she said to Manny conspiratorially one day at the pub, while Bernard was getting them drinks at the bar. “We could have a really good chat about everything!”

“Er- right!” Manny replied, not sure what they’d be chatting about. Bernard, he supposed. He seemed to be the only off-limits topic while they were within earshot. “It’s a date!” he said jokingly.

Fran laughed heartily, and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, Manny,” she said in an indulgent tone, and turned to take her drink from Bernard.

“Your lager, sir,” Bernard said in a falsely lofty voice, handing Manny his drink with a small grin.

“Thank you, Bernard.” Manny smiled back. He and Fran chatted mindlessly about something in the news, while Bernard perused the local paper, and occasionally read out a titbit he found amusing, or that they could complain about. It was lovely, and nothing was ever lovely for long, so Manny just tried to enjoy it while it lasted.

*

It was a public holiday.

Which one exactly, they couldn’t agree on, but everywhere else in the street was shut, so they’d also kept the door locked. An open sign on a public holiday was a beacon for trouble, because it attracted the worst of the loitering public.

Between a relatively amiable Bernard, and a determined Manny, they’d managed to give the whole shop and rooms a pretty good clean-out. Manny had done most of the work, but Bernard had deigned to hold a bin bag open occasionally and allowed himself to be moved several times so that Manny could clean around him.

Manny had counted it as a great success, because he’d located two coffee cups and the missing spare corkscrew, as well as various coins and several mystery keys. Their rooms had turned up most of the missing cooking utensils, and only a few of the pots had crustaceans in them this time.

The kitchen table was clear for once, and Manny basked in the relatively sparkling cleanliness of the space while he waited for the kettle to boil.

“Manny!” Bernard called from the couch. He sounded more concerned than angry, but not especially urgent.

“Yes, Bernard?” He called back, fishing around in the fridge for some milk.

“There’s- a man!” Bernard replied. Manny frowned, but Bernard didn’t elaborate, so he finished their cups and brought them out to investigate.

“What’s that?” Manny handed Bernard his tea, and he took it blindly, his gaze fixed on the window above the bookcase.

There was a man, indeed. Waving at them, through the smudged glass. Manny squinted, and nearly dropped his cup.

“Danny!” he cried, startling Bernard. Manny put his cup down on the freshly cleaned desk and hastened to open the front door.

“What! Who?” Bernard got off the couch, clutching the cup to his chest. “Who’s Danny?”

“This is Danny-” Manny said, finally getting the lock open. “Hi, Danny, it’s been so long- come in, come in!” He took Danny’s outstretched hand and gestured inside.

“Manny!” Danny said, shaking Manny’s hand with a firm grip and stepping into the store. “I was told you’d be here! Wasn’t sure if you’d be open!”

“We’re not.” Bernard said from behind them, but Manny ignored him. He shut the door behind Danny and waved around.

“Oh you know, just doing some spring cleaning. How are you?” Manny asked, smiling at Danny.

“Who are you,” Bernard said, unsmiling, not really a question.

Danny blinked, about to answer, but Manny cut him off.

“Oh Danny, this is Bernard, he’s the owner, we live here, good friends!” Manny explained quickly, and Danny stepped forward to shake Bernard’s hand.

“Yes,” Bernard said, in an odd tone, taking Danny’s hand after a moment. “Good friends.” They shook tightly, Bernard frowning suspiciously and Danny smiling politely.

“It’s good to finally meet you Bernard, Moo-Ma did mention you had a lovely little shop here with our Manny!”

Bernard’s face soured, and Manny interjected before he could say anything terrible. “Bernard, this is Danny! We grew up together, went to high school together!”

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Bernard said, dropping Danny’s hand like it was something rotten, and wrapped his hands around his tea protectively. It was in that same coffee cup of Manny’s, the one that had become a sort of symbol of their peacemaking. It was one of the only dishes Bernard ever cleaned.

Manny was about to reply, but Danny chuckled.

“I doubt he would have!” He said lightly, smiling at Manny. “It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it Manny?”

“It has!” Manny smiled back helplessly. “What happened? I thought you moved to, the Philippines, or something?”

“Bali!” Danny grinned, “And ‘round the islands, Papua New Guinea, up to Vietnam and Laos!”

“How fascinating,” Bernard said, sounding anything but fascinated.

“Wow!” Manny said over him, leaning on the desk and picking up his cup of tea. “Danny, that’s brilliant! I’ve always wanted to go to Vietnam, I didn’t get there on my Borneo trip!”

“Well,” Danny laughed, “There’s still time!”

Bernard glared at them both, but Manny ignored him.

“That there is-” Manny stood up, “But where are my manners? Tea, Danny?” he said, moving toward the kitchen.

“I’d love a cup,” Danny replied, following. “Thanks, Manny!”

Manny filled up the kettle again, and Danny sat at the table. Bernard trailed after them silently, frown like a gathering storm.

“Top up, Bernard?” Manny asked, gesturing at Bernard’s cup.

“No, thank you,” Bernard said primly, crossing the kitchen to put his cup down in the sink with a _clack_. He leaned back against the draining rack next to Manny for a moment, arms crossed. Bernard gave Danny a _look_ , that Manny couldn’t parse, and Danny obviously couldn’t either, because he shrugged a little at Bernard, smile faltering.

“Problem, Bernard?” Manny asked, before the silence got awkward.

Bernard might as well have had a rain cloud over his head, but he just looked at his nail bed briefly and flicked imaginary dust off his fingers.

“No problem,” Bernard said, in an odd, fake tone, and patted Manny on the shoulder once. “I’ll be in the shop.” He strode out without saying anything else, whipping the curtains shut behind him.

Manny and Danny both watched him go, and Danny turned to Manny with raised eyebrows. Manny shrugged. He didn’t have any more insight as to what went on inside Bernard’s head than Danny did.  

“Sugar, Danny?” Manny asked, as the kettle clicked.

“Just one, thank you Manny!” Danny replied cheerfully.

*

Things only got more awkward at the pub.

Danny and his sister were both in town for the night. Angela- the sister- was coming in on a later flight, so they’d all agreed to meet up at the pub instead of waiting for her at the shop. Fran seemed thrilled to meet some more of Manny’s friends, while Bernard was silent and falsely polite in turns. Manny tried to ignore him, because he wasn’t going to let Bernard’s newly returned moodiness ruin his only night out with his old friend.

Fran seemed to take the edge off Bernard’s ill humour, distracting him with wine and the tale of her latest failed date with a ventriloquist. She seemed to quite like Danny too, laughing along with his travel anecdotes. Bernard was the only one without a smile, but that wasn’t exactly new.

“How long’s he staying?” Bernard whispered viciously, when Danny went to the bar. Fran sipped her drink, and watched them both.

“Only the one night, like he said!” Manny replied, exasperated. “God Bernard, anyone would think you were jealous!”

Bernard seemed taken aback. “Do I need to be?” he said, in a strange voice. Manny shook his head, bewildered, and look to Fran for help. She just raised her eyebrows.

“What- no!” Manny said, feeling oddly defensive. “Danny’s just a friend!” Not that Bernard had any right to be deciding who he could talk to!

“Yes, I know-” Bernard said, pulling a face, “Danny and Manny, this, Danny and Manny that, what a _riot_!” He took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke in Manny’s face.

“Did you pick him just because it _rhymed_?” Bernard asked, in that mean, fake voice Manny hated.

“What is your _problem_ , Bernard!” Manny waved the smoke from his eyes, trying to keep from raising his voice. “You’re acting like a total-!”

“-Manny!” a light female voice interrupted them, and a slim brunette woman appeared at his elbow with a broad smile. Danny appeared a second later on his other side, with his and Fran’s drinks.

“You found us, Angie!” Danny said sunnily, putting the glasses down and embracing the woman.

“Oh, Angela! Hello!” Manny stood up, kissing her on the cheek.

“Would you like a drink?” Danny asked her, leaning against the back of Manny’s chair.

“Oh no, I’ll come up with you, Angie,” Manny said, waving at his empty seat. “You sit down Danny, we’ll be back in a tick!” He smiled and waved Angela towards the bar. She smiled back, flicking her long hair over her shoulder, and led the way.

They put their order in with the bartender, and waited for their drinks. It was pretty busy at the bar, so Manny leaned in to speak.

“Angie, it’s been ages!” he said, “You’re looking wonderful, how are you!”

She laughed, tossing her hair back. “I’m great! And you aren’t looking so bad yourself, Manny!” She put her hand on his forearm, and leaned closer. “Is that your girlfriend? She’s giving us a mighty glare!” Angela tilted her head back towards their table, where Danny seemed to have abandoned Fran and Bernard, and Fran was, indeed, glaring at them. Bernard’s expression was even more thunderous, and Manny hoped he wouldn’t cause a scene of some sort.

“Of course not,” he chuckled nervously, patting Angela on the hand. “Fran’s just a friend, I’m not seeing anyone!”

Angela raised her eyebrows, and chuckled a little. “If you say so!” she said airily. “I suppose that means I could give you a proper kiss, then?” she asked.

Manny spluttered, feeling his face heat up. Angela thanked the bartender as he handed their order over, and twirled the straw in her drink. “Well, how about it, Manny?” she said softly, leaning in with a hand on his arm again.

“Oh, well, I suppose so-” he began, feeling conflicted, which made no sense. He wasn’t seeing anyone! Why should he feel guilty, because Bernard was a jealous, lonely bastard-?

Angela leaned in and cut him off, planting her lips on his with some force.  She skimmed her hand up his arm to clutch his shoulder, while Manny stood there in shock, eyes open. He shut them a second later, because that’s what you did when you were kissing someone, even if it was a surprise and you didn’t really want to be kissing them. He opened them again a moment later, because no, he realised, he really didn’t want to be kissing Angela, even if she was very pretty and usually very nice, because it just didn’t feel right, it made his stomach twist horribly and-

“Manny!” Fran appeared beside him, sounding more furious than he’d ever heard her, even more furious than that time Bernard had accidentally broken one of her new heels by tripping on the cobbles one drunken walk home when he’d told her that yes, of course he could walk in heels-

“Oh,” Angela said, cutting in on Manny’s shocked train of thought, “Trouble in paradise?”

Fran ignored her completely, digging claws into Manny’s arm and dragging him away from the bar.

“Manny, how could you!” she hissed furiously, tugging him back towards their table, where Bernard was pulling his coat on rapidly and not looking at them. He was pale and his mouth was turned down in a hard line.

Manny and Fran were two feet from the table but Bernard ignored them entirely, pushing past Fran’s outstretched hand. “Bernard, wait!” she cried, but he jerked his shoulder out of her grip roughly and kept going, weaving through the crowd and disappearing.

“What-?” Manny started, trying to free himself from Fran’s iron clasp.

“Don’t “ _what_ ” me, Manny!” she growled at him, grabbing her bag from the table with her free hand. She dragged him through the tables, trying to catch up with Bernard, who was nowhere in sight.

“Manny!” Danny called from behind them, and Manny turned to see him grabbing his jacket with a confused expression. Angela was beside him at the table, looking confused and a little guilty.

“I’ll call you!” Manny shouted back through the crowd, miming a phone to his ear as Fran dragged them out of the bar. The street was dark, and there were a few smokers milling around the door. Bernard was nowhere to be seen.

“Right, Manny,” Fran said angrily, hauling him away from the door, “What the hell was that about?” She let go of his arm finally, now that they were in relative privacy, and Manny rubbed the probable bruise. The rough-looking man closest to them raised his eyebrows and stubbed out his cigarette against the window sill, leaving them alone next to the pot plants.

“What do you mean?” Manny was baffled, “And what on earth is wrong with Bernard?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong with Bernard?” Fran seemed as confused as him, some of the anger leaving her expression. “What’s he supposed to think,” she continued in a frustrated tone, “When you’re up at the bar kissing some girl? Of course he’s upset!”

“Because I got a kiss? What’s wrong with that?” Manny cried, as frustrated as Fran.

“Because-!” Fran shook her head wildly, waving her bag. “Because you and him are a _thing_ , aren’t you?” She sounded confused. “You shouldn’t be, you know, sitting at bars, kissing strange women!”

“We’re- what?” Manny shook his head and tried to get out more questions, but he was speechless in shock.

“You and Bernard!” Fran cried, smacking him on the arm with her bag.

“Me and- Bernard?”  Manny repeated, like a large parrot.

“Yes!” Fran shook her head again. “You know-” she affected a fake, falsetto tone, “‘ _Oh Bernard thanks for the tea_ ’, ‘ _That’s okay, Manny, I’m an emotionally stunted wanker_ ’- you’re dating, aren’t you!” she cried, not like a question, more like it was an obvious truth.

Manny was gobsmacked, trying to work out why she thought that him and Bernard were- they weren’t- were they?

“Aren’t you?” she continued, her frown morphing into some other kind of frown, not angry but confused. “Manny?”

“No?” Manny said, then realised it sounded like a question. “No!” he repeated. Much better. He still wasn’t actually certain. “I don’t- At least- Not that I knew!” Bernard would have told him they were dating, surely? And since when was Bernard gay? With him? Since when was Bernard gay with him?

“I thought he hated dancing!” Manny cried. Fran ran a hand through her hair, looking as wild-eyed as Manny felt.

“What?” she said, shrilly. “What are you talking about, Manny! You’re-” she spluttered, trying to find her words. “You’ve been dating for like, two months! Did you- What-” she pulled her handbag up to her shoulder, fixing Manny with a sudden glare.

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you two,” she said sharply, jabbing him in the chest with a manicured nail, “But you need to sort yourselves out. Bernard thinks- Fuck, who even knows?” She threw her hands up again, and fished in her bag viciously for a moment, pulling out her cigarettes.

“I’m done with this!” she said, cigarette in one hand, still looking in her bag. Not looking at Manny.

“Fran?” Manny said, still in shock. “Here, look,” he pulled Bernard’s spare lighter out of his jeans pocket, and held the flame up to her cigarette. She glared at him, silently, but put the cigarette butt to her lips and let him light it.

They were quiet for a moment. Manny pocketed the lighter, and Fran took a long drag of her cigarette, giving him a pinched, considering look.

“Are you really that oblivious, Manny?” Fran sounded tired, and a little sad.

“I-” Manny felt tired suddenly too, and shrugged, helplessly. “I guess so.”

Fran shook her head, and clenched her jaw. “Do you even want to date Bernard?” she asked. “Because he needs to know.”

“I-” Manny paused, and then thought about it. Fran let him, leaning back against the window sill. She watched him silently, the tip of her cigarette cherry red. An ambulance siren screamed in the distance. It all felt very dramatic, and the tension made Manny’s throat burn.

Manny coughed to try to clear his throat, running his hands through his hair. Did he want to date Bernard? He’d never dated a man before. It wasn’t especially important, Bernard being a man, it was more- that he was a Bernard. Manny hadn’t ever really thought about him as a- dateable person. Bernard was barely a person, half the time, so much as a menacing cloud of smoke and wine sediment.

Except, that wasn’t really true, as much as Manny complained about him. There was a reason Manny stayed at the store, more than because he’d been fired from his other jobs, and didn’t want to go home to Moo-ma and Moo-pa. It was Bernard and Fran, Manny supposed. They were like, a team, almost. Fran was like the sister he’d never had, once they’d established they really didn’t find each other attractive.

Bernard though. Manny had never thought of him as a brother. Just as a- well as a _Bernard_. Manny had never met anyone like him.

“I, suppose, I could-” Manny started, before Fran cut him off.

“You suppose?” she hissed at him, unmoving. “You suppose you could?” She flicked her ash in the hideous potted fern beside them. “Bernard’s not some hobby you can just- have a go at!”

Manny blinked, suddenly guilty. “That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled, because it wasn’t. Bernard wasn’t a hobby at all, he was a full time job. One that Manny already had, he realised. He just hadn’t noticed, even when it seemed kind of obvious now. Bernard didn’t wash a coffee cup for just anyone. “We really are already a couple, aren’t we?” Manny ventured, the concept still spinning around in his mind, coming together like the plot at the end of a crime novel.

Fran snorted, ugly and loud. “A couple of bloody morons.” She stubbed out her cigarette and flicked the butt into the fern. “Come on,” she said, straightening up and tugging down her shirt. “We should go find Bernard before he runs out of booze and starts drinking cleaning products again.”

“Didn’t you think it was weird,” Manny asked her, as they started walking back towards the shop, “That we never kissed or anything?”

Fran side-eyed him before shrugging. “I suppose, I probably should have noticed,” she sighed, “But I guess I just thought you were both weird about that kind of thing.” She jangled her keys in one hand. “You know,” she continued, “It’s the first time Bernard’s dated a bloke, too. I guess I just thought you were kind of,” she glanced at him, “Taking it slow? You both seemed pretty happy with whatever was going on.”

“Yeah,” Manny said, watching his feet as they walked. “Yeah, I knew something weird was going on, because things were nice, you know?” He kicked an imaginary can. “He did the laundry, once.”

Fran paused, giving him an incredulous look. “Seriously?” she said. Manny shrugged sheepishly, hands in his pockets.  Fran laughed, bright and clear and loud, and Manny felt the tight knot of tension in his chest loosen a little. Things would probably be alright.


	4. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fran is cemented in her firm belief that she is surrounded by complete idiots. The boys don't go to bed angry. Manny talks a lot to people that aren't Bernard. Angela wonders whatever happened to her goldfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send loving comments asking for more, and ye shall receive... or something like that. happy turkey dinner day to all the american-type readers!

Fran stopped outside the bookstore.

Faint light from the kitchen was visible through the smudged glass, which meant Bernard was probably somewhere out back. Fran unlocked the door, and made to turn the handle, but Manny put a hand on her arm.

They shared a look.

“It’s okay, Fran.” Manny said. “I’ll talk to him.” Fran had mediated far too many of his and Bernard’s fights. Besides, Manny didn’t think either of them could handle too much more serious talk tonight. Fran looked even more tired than Manny felt. He still had to ring Danny, but he could leave that off until the morning.

Fran sighed, and shook her head a little. “You’re right, you should probably talk to him yourself,” she said, and poked him in the chest. “Make sure you tell him the truth, though! He’ll think you’re an absolute idiot,” she continued, smiling a little. “But he already does anyway, and you don’t want to have to explain it all again when the truth comes out anyway. You’re a terrible liar.”

Manny nodded. “You’re right about that,” he said, glancing at the empty shopfront. The door window needed cleaning.

Fran smiled wider, fiddling with her keys. “If he tries to kill you,” she said, “Which he probably will- or throws you out on the street- just pop up to mine, alright?” She grabbed Manny’s hand, and pressed the spare bookshop key into it. “It’s about time you had one of these,” she said. “I’ve got Bernard’s other spare keys anyway, from the Christmas party.”

“Oh,” Manny said, staring at the little golden key. He felt a bit choked up, but didn’t want to ruin the flippant tone Fran was trying to set by saying something too heartfelt. “Cheers, Fran.” He couldn’t look at her. He was such an idiot. Everything was probably ruined.

“Oh, Manny!” Fran said with a chuckle. He looked up with watery eyes. She curled his hand around the key. “Don’t worry!” she continued. “Bernard’s just as dumb as you are!” She smiled reassuringly. “This hardly would have happened if he’d bothered to actually verbalise a human feeling even _one_ time, remember?”

Manny nodded. She was right, after all. Bernard would never admit it, but Manny and Fran both knew it. All Manny could do was hope for the best, really, and possibly grovel for all eternity. He did that after every imagined misdemeanour anyway, it seemed like.

“’Night Manny,” Fran said, clapping him on the shoulder as she stepped out on the street. “Good luck!” They both smiled. Manny would need it.

“Give him a big kiss from me,” Fran called as she started back down the road towards her apartment. “When you’ve finally made up!”

“Okay! Goodnight!” Manny called back, automatically, and then paused. Yes, he might well be kissing Bernard one day, if they made up. It was an odd thought, but Manny wasn’t particularly opposed. “Bet he tastes like an old ashtray,” he muttered to himself, staring at the door handle. He felt like he was on the threshold of something enormous and terrifying, like a dragon’s cave. Like he couldn’t turn back, even if he wanted to.

Manny shook himself a little, and turned the handle. It was only Bernard, after all. His scales were because he didn’t exfoliate.

*

The shop was quiet and still.

Manny picked his way through the darkened front room, not wanting to turn more lights on, and hung up his jacket. He pocketed Fran’s key, not wanting Bernard to find out about it just yet. He’d probably change the locks or something, and then where would Manny be?

Nothing seemed out of place. Manny had half expected his things to be strewn everywhere, Bernard yelling and declaring him fired, or worse.

Manny glanced at the clock. It was stuck on eight minutes past two, the same as it always was, ever since Bernard had thrown an _Oxford English Dictionary_ at it in a fit of temper over a new addition to the language he’d disagreed with. ‘Moobs’, if Manny remembered correctly.

“Bernard?” he called loudly, wanting to break the thick silence, like that first conversation opener was a band-aid he could rip off, and find healed skin underneath. They needed more real band-aids, too. Manny added it to his mental shopping list. They used them as sticky-tape far too often.

There was no response.

Manny pulled the kitchen curtain aside, and stood in the doorway.

“Bernard?” he said again, softer.

Bernard was at the table, with his back to the doorway. He still had his big coat on, and his keys were on the table next to his clenched fist. He didn’t move, shoulders a tense line.

“Fran let me in.” Manny didn’t know what to say, now that Bernard was actually here in front of him. It was difficult to say anything at all around the lump in his throat. _The truth_. Fran’s voice looped in his head. Very helpful, except getting the right words out was what he always stumbled on.

Manny fiddled with the curtain. Bernard could have been a statue. It was strange, but everything about this whole _thing_ was strange.

“I- I didn’t realise, Bernard,” the words jumbled out of Manny’s mouth in a loud, ugly rush that didn’t really make sense. “About us being- about dating- and you-” he couldn’t stop talking, because Bernard’s entire body seemed to become more tense with every microsecond and Manny had to get _something_ out before Bernard exploded.

“It’s fine, Bernard!” Manny was almost shouting now, which wasn’t good, but he couldn’t stop. “I want to date you! I just didn’t know! And Angie-”

“Angie.” Bernard said, quietly. Coldly. Manny nearly bit straight through his tongue trying to shut up, because it was such a relief to hear Bernard actually say something. Like the band-aid had been ripped off.

Or not, because that’s all that Bernard said. Manny stood awkwardly for a long moment, hoping he’d say more. Hoping he’d start yelling, because that was normal.

“Yes!” Manny started again, tasting blood in his mouth. “Angie- she just wanted to stir trouble, I think!” Manny was on a roll, now, and he rushed over to sit on the other chair, suddenly desperate to see Bernard’s face. He sat down quickly, but for some reason couldn’t quite make his eyes focus on anything but Bernard’s right hand, clenched in a tight fist on the table. Bernard had nice hands, Manny thought, especially when he cleaned his nails.

“I like your hands.” Manny’s stomach dropped out, because it was one of the stupidest things he’d ever said. Only one of them, because he couldn’t stop himself from saying stupid things all the time. Like the long stream of things currently coming out of his mouth.

“And I like- your hair! And your nose! It has freckles!” Manny’s voice kept getting higher, because his brain was trying to choke it off. “And when you smile there’s little wrinkles that are nice even if it’s because you’re old!” Manny’s hands were clenched too now, and he had an urge to put them around his own throat, just to shut himself up. “You should smile more, Bernard-!”

“-Manny.” Thank god.

Manny’s mouth shut with a click of his teeth, trapping his stupidity inside again.

Bernard sounded strange. One day Manny wanted to know him well enough to be able to tell what every tone of his voice meant. Knowing his expression would help, but when Manny looked up all he could focus on was Bernard’s left ear. There was a curl of dark hair around his earlobe.

“Did I already say I liked your hair-?”

“-Manny!” Bernard’s earlobe moved slightly as he spoke. Manny refocused, this time on Bernard’s bottom lip. He still needed lip balm. Manny wondered what kissing him would be like. Did Bernard even want to kiss him? They’d been dating two months apparently and he’d never even tried to. Manny had always been a third date kind of guy. Did they technically even go on dates? Had Indian takeout counted?

“Manny!” Bernard opened his fist and smacked his palm sharply on the table. Manny knew that tone, at least. It meant he hadn’t been paying attention again.

“Do you not like kissing?” Manny blurted out, finally looking at Bernard properly. Bernard look tired and he was frowning, which only deepened at Manny’s question.

“What!” Bernard said in response, then shook his head, briefly shutting his eyes like he was trying to shake off Manny’s stupidity. He opened his eyes again to glare at Manny. They were dark, and red rimmed.

Manny had the sickening thought that Bernard had been crying, but it was followed immediately by Manny remembering that Bernard’s eyes were pretty much always red-rimmed and irritated, between the smoke and the hangovers. Manny sighed in relief. Bernard’s face contorted into a kind of sneer, like he’d done something incredibly stupid.

Yes, right. Relief probably wasn’t the right thing to be feeling, let alone expressing. Manny couldn’t help it, though, just glad Bernard was even looking at him. “Thought you’d been crying, for a second,” Manny said quickly, when Bernard just kept looking at him with the same expression.

Bernard blinked in response, and seemed to be trying to keep the same horrible sneer on his face, but he just looked somewhere between upset and confused. “Wh- I haven’t been crying!” he sounded like he normally did, for a second. “You’re not that special, you great bearded idiot!” Irate, and ready to smack him. Manny smiled despite himself, but it dropped just as Bernard’s face did, and he ended up mirroring Bernard’s small frown.

“Angie’s not anything.” Manny said, when he was sure Bernard wasn’t going to say more. “Neither is Danny. No one is,” he continued, shrugging a little. He put his palms flat on the table, near Bernard’s hand, careful not to touch. “’Cept you, Bernard.” Bernard’s fingers twitched, but he didn’t move them any closer. Or further away, which Manny counted as a success.

“Well, Fran too, I guess.” Manny said, then backpedalled, because that sounded awful. “Not in a sexy way though!” Which also sounded bad. “Not that Fran’s not sexy- just not to me!” But then- “Not that you’re sexy to me, if you don’t want to be sexy to me- I mean-”

“-Shut up, for the love of god!” Bernard had his eyes shut again. He pulled his left hand out of his coat pocket to squeeze the bridge of his nose, but didn’t move his right.

“Right,” Bernard said, quietly but firmly. “Now, I’m going to bed.” He opened his eyes to look at Manny, who just nodded. “In the morning,” Bernard continued, very carefully addressing Manny’s right eyebrow, “I want tea. And toast. And to not talk about this until I say so.”

He paused, and appeared to be waiting for a response. Manny nodded again. It seemed to be the correct answer, because Bernard patted the back of his left hand, very briefly.

“Good.” Bernard stood up, walking over to the stairs.

“Bernard-” Manny didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t stop himself. Bernard paused, only for a second.

“Goodnight, Manny.” Bernard didn’t sound angry. Manny stared at the back of his head, and wondered what it would be like to follow him up to bed. That’s what people who had been dating for two months did, right?

“Goodnight, Bernard,” he replied, and sat at the kitchen table for a long time after Bernard had disappeared upstairs.

*

Manny woke up very early. He wanted to ring Danny before Bernard got up, and had decided to go down to the payphone to do it. He had Fran’s key now, which Manny realised allowed him to come and go as he pleased. Still, he wanted to be back before Bernard got up.

Manny had tea and toast to make, after all.

There were a few old ladies walking their rounds in the crisp morning air, but otherwise the street was empty. Manny pulled his coat tighter around him and studiously checked the payphone box for errant bees before he shut the door.

The plastic receiver was cold against Manny’s ear, and he waited patiently for someone to pick up. He wasn’t worried about waking Danny or Angie, because their flight was out at nine AM and they had always been early risers.

“Hello?” Danny sounded well awake and chipper, which was a good sign, Manny thought.

“Danny, hi!” Manny said, running his hand through his hair as he tried to think of what the hell he was going to say. Maybe he should have thought about this before he rang. Instead he’d spent the night tossing and turning and thinking about bloody Bernard.

“Manny!” Danny didn’t sound angry, which was a relief. Manny didn’t want to lose such an old friend over what was, really, a gigantic stupid misunderstanding. “How are you?” Danny continued, in the kind of pleasant tone that meant it was a greeting and not a real question.

“Good, good!” Manny said quickly, which was only partially true, because he had a bit of a headache and only slept three hours. “Listen, sorry about last night. Bit of-” Manny wasn’t sure what to call it, but, “-um, relationship trouble, that kind of drama.” He tried to sound casual, like anything about last night was normal, but his tone came out more hopeful than anything.

Danny was quiet for a beat, before saying “Right,” in a drawn-out way. Manny took a breath to speak, but Danny continued, “Look, Manny, I’m not sure what happened, but it’s all good with me.” Manny pulled the receiver away from his mouth so Danny wouldn’t hear him sigh with relief. “I think you should speak to Angela though,” Danny continued. “She was a bit upset last night.”

“Ah, right-o,” Manny said, uncertainly. “Is she there?”

“Yeah, one tick,” Danny said, and there was a rustling noise as he presumably went to fetch Angela. Manny stared through the phone box glass at some potted petunias in a shop window, and wondered for a moment how to explain himself. He frowned, putting a few more coins into the payphone.

Really he shouldn’t be explaining himself. What kind of person just goes around kissing people at bars? Manny hasn’t seen Angie since high school.

“Hello, Manny?” Angela didn’t sound especially upset, so Manny tried to sound casual as well.

“Oh, hi, Angie, sorry about last night,” Manny said quickly, suddenly very tired of being on the phone, and wanting to get this over with. “Bernard, um, had to go home.” Where Manny would much rather be. It was cold in this phone booth, and he hadn’t much liked them anyway since the bee mugging.

Angela was quiet for a moment, before she said “Right,” in the exact same drawn-out slightly disbelieving tone as her brother. Manny was suddenly struck by how similar they both were, even more now they were older.

It was never really _Danny-and-Manny_ the way Bernard had imagined. It had been more _Danny-and-Angie_ , jet-setting around the globe and discussing politics and drinking dry martinis with little olives in them at employee functions. Manny felt very old and boring, but he was kind of glad he didn’t have to wake up in motel rooms, or go to work with people he didn’t like.

“Manny?” Angela said, and Manny realised he’d been silent for too long.

“Yeah, sorry, what’s that?” He tried not to sound like he hadn’t been listening, even if she had been talking.

“I said, I’m sorry too.” Her voice was quiet, and she seemed sincere enough. “I just hadn’t seen you in so long, and I’d always wanted to kiss you.” She laughed a little. “I had the biggest crush on you in school, you know that?”

Manny blinked down at the payphone. “Really?” he said, a little incredulous. “I never knew that!” Angela had spent a lot of time at her extra-curriculars, and had a boyfriend for most of the time he could remember. “What about, whats-his-name, Joe?”

Angela laughed, properly this time. “Joey was the name of my goldfish! I made up the boyfriend story!” She chuckled, “I’d wanted to make you jealous! But you just congratulated me!” There was murmuring in the background, and Manny could hear Danny laugh. “He remembers too!” Angela said, her voice light and bubbly. “My stupid boyfriend with the ten-second memory!”

“Oh!” Manny chuckled a little too, feeling a bit stupid himself. “Wow, I had no idea!”

“Oh, Manny,” she said, her voice quieter and a little more serious. A little more intimate. “Imagine what might have happened if I had just told you how I felt?”

“Yeah, imagine,” he replied. Manny could imagine it. They’d probably have ended up dating. Maybe he’d have followed them on their travels, around the globe to all the places he dreamed of going, even now. _Danny-and-Manny-and-Angie._ Wrapped up in each other and the thrill of travel, the way they always thought they’d be.

It was a pipe dream though, Manny realised. Even if Angela sounded like she might still be interested, even if they’d come to London just to see him. He felt like he should feel more nostalgic, or disappointed that it hadn’t ended up that way. All he could think about was what might have happened if Bernard had told him two months ago, how he felt. If he felt- _things_ , about Manny.

“Look, Angie, I’ve got to go,” Manny said, shifting the receiver in his somewhat-numb grip and putting his cold other hand in his pocket. “It was lovely seeing you both!”

“Oh!” Angela sounded a little surprised. “Right, yes, of course!”

“Tell Danny you guys are welcome to visit anytime,” Manny said, keeping his tone light but still in that _goodbye, got to go_ kind of voice.

“I will!” Angela sounded a little desperate, and said quickly, “It was really so good to see you, Manny! We’ll catch up?”

“Bye, Angie.” Manny said brightly, like she hadn’t asked a question.

“Bye, Manny,” Angela replied automatically, and seemed like she was going to say something else, but Manny carefully put the receiver down in the cradle so he didn’t hear anything else. He looked down at the phone for a long moment. It felt strange, to so easily hang up on the potential life he would have once given anything to live. His fingers curled tight around the shop key in his pocket, cold and hard and worth much more than the three pound fifty Fran had apparently paid to have it cut the third time Bernard had lost his keys somewhere between the pub and the bookshop.

“Oi!” A pounding on the phone booth door ripped Manny out of his daydreaming. He fumbled for his change out of the little metal flap, and opened the door.

“Sorry,” he mumbled hastily to the irritated looking woman, who just huffed and shouldered past him into the booth. Manny didn’t mind, and couldn’t keep from smiling. He whistled a tone-deaf little tune all the way back to the shop, thinking about jam in bathtubs and arguments about new book displays. He wondered if Fran would be down for lunch later. She might give them a day, if she thought they’d be too busy arguing to be much fun.

Manny still couldn’t stop smiling, though. Maybe they would argue a lot, but now the shock had faded, and Angie was out of his mind, he realised that Bernard _liked_ him. Even if he yelled and called him names, and rang his mobile sometimes just to make him wince.

Like, _liked_ him.

It was childish, but Manny felt giddy even thinking about it. Bernard might have even had a _crush_ on him. Had he told Fran anything? Did they talk about Manny? About Manny-and-Bernard? Did Bernard think Manny was sexy?

That thought stopped him at the door of the shop, and he frowned.

Manny hadn’t really thought about being sexy, except maybe earlier in accounting school when he thought that might get him a girlfriend. Even then though, it was more _handsome_ he was going for than sexy. He’d tried to be sexy in some of the _Big and Beardy_ photo shoots, but somehow he didn’t think Bernard would find coquettish posing particularly thrilling. Or, maybe he would. Manny had no idea what Bernard liked, except flights of fancy when it was over eighty degrees.

He liked _Manny,_ though. The thought carried Manny in a cloud all the way to the kitchen, and he filled the kettle with a smile after the cursory inspection for molluscs. Bernard liked Manny, and sat next to him at pubs, and dated him for months even when Manny hadn’t noticed or done any proper boyfriend-type things. Manny felt a bit dizzy, stirring his tea, and it wasn’t because he hadn’t eaten anything. His chest felt tight, like it was full of too much air, or some strange expansive feeling.

Manny sipped his tea, and flicked the radio on low, humming away at a Beatles song on the oldies station. He ran some water in the sink, popping the milk bottle cap- that served as a plug- into the drain, intent on washing up from yesterdays lunch. Bernard would be up soon, probably, given that he’d gone to bed early and they’d barely drank last night. He’d likely be as cranky and barely coherent as he usually was for the first hour or so, squinting at everything and mumbling to himself.

Manny couldn’t wait to see him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it was meant to be the end but then i realised i had more waffle to share. please comment with all of your thoughts if you enjoyed!!! (esp if u know where to find a secret stash of BB fic...)


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